


Crema Verse Prompt Fill #20

by twobirdsonesong



Series: Crema Verse [22]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Crema verse, Drabble, Gen, Kid Fic, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ayeyeblaine asked you: also more coop/blaine childhood especially saturday mornings and blaine’s first day of high school and the time when cooper had to leave</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crema Verse Prompt Fill #20

Saturday mornings are usually Blaine’s favorite.  He doesn’t have school that day, or the next, and he’s almost always finished with his homework by Friday afternoon.  It means he gets two whole days for fun things, like the piano or Coop’s new guitar.  He wakes up early, even though he doesn’t have to, but Cooper wakes up even earlier to make them both breakfast.  On Saturdays, the smell of pancakes (banana, usually, but sometimes chocolate chip, or both) pulls Blaine from his blankets and he creeps down the large, winding staircase and tiptoes to the kitchen that’s far too big for three people.

But that Saturday, he wakes up to the smoky, salty scent of bacon mingling with the heavy sweetness of bananas.  It doesn’t really make any sense - it’s not Christmas, and it’s not his birthday, and he can’t think of anything he’s done recently that would warrant the addition of bacon to their usual breakfast.  He’s not going to complain though. 

That morning, there’s luggage at the front door when Blaine gets to the bottom of the stairs – Coop’s luggage, and that doesn’t make any sense either.  Blaine eyes the packed bags curiously, stomach squirming with a foreboding he doesn’t yet understand, but goes into the kitchen all the same.

Cooper is at the stove in his favorite apron (cream colored with a pretty little floral pattern that doesn’t quite fit him, as though it was made for someone else).  He’s already got a towering stack of banana pancakes on a plate at his elbow, but he’s still cooking up more.  They won’t be able to eat this much in one sitting.  There’s a plate of bacon on the kitchen table (they never eat Saturday breakfast in the more formal dining room), a dish of sliced bananas, orange juice, and a carafe of coffee.  Blaine frowns when he sees that there are two mugs for the coffee; Cooper keeps telling him that coffee is a terrible addiction and he should stay as far away from it as possible for as long as he can.  But the smell of it – deep and earthy – is tantalizing and Blaine steals sips from Coop’s cup as often as Cooper pretends not to notice.

“Morning,” Blaine offers and Coop glances over his shoulder at him.  There’s a strange look in his eyes – not quite manic, but not the heavy-lidded, sleepy look Blaine is used to from his brother before 8am.

“Hey, B.  You’re up.  Have a seat.  I’m almost done here.”  Cooper’s voice is too chipper, too upbeat, too tight, and it sets Blaine’s nerves on edge.

Cooper doesn’t say much while they eat, and Blaine doesn’t tell him that the coffee is too bitter on his tongue to really enjoy.  He feels like an adult with the taste of dirt behind his teeth, even if the furrow of Cooper’s brow and the way his leg won’t stop bouncing makes Blaine twitchy and uneasy.

They don’t clean up the dishes after, which is unusual too.  Normally, when the pancakes are reduced to crumbs and Blaine is laughing as Cooper licks traces of syrup off his plate, they wash the dishes together.  Blaine stands, elbows deep in sudsy water, and scrubs and Cooper dries while they both dance to whatever song is on the radio, even though they have a perfectly overpriced dishwasher.  Everything that is not the same as always makes the knot in Blaine’s stomach grow bigger and twist tighter until he’s struggling to take a breath.

“Come with me, squirt,” Cooper says, when the last plate is stacked carefully and the last of the coffee is poured down the drain.  Blaine follows – he always follows his big brother – into the music room.

Blaine sits down at the piano and Cooper slides onto the bench next to him.  It took years, but Blaine’s feet finally reach the pedals.  Sometimes he misses the days when Cooper would operate the pedals and he’d play the melody, but now they get to play duets together, and that’s even better.

Cooper stretches his practiced hands across the keys and taps out a few high, plaintive notes and the recognition hits Blaine hard; his heart stops and restarts on an aching beat and he doesn’t know why.

 _You and me together we’ll be, forever you’ll see_ , Cooper doesn’t quite sing and Blaine has never heard his brother’s voice catch and crack on tears like it does just then.

Cooper is the strong one, the rock, the big brother.  He’s supposed to be the one to put Band-Aids on Blaine’s scrapes and kiss his bruises.  He’s the one who makes sure Blaine’s scarf is tucked snug around his neck and brushes the snow from his coat before they go back inside from a crisp winter day out building snowmen.  He’s the one who helps Blaine with his homework and holds Blaine tight when he wakes up in the middle of the night, sweaty and shaky from another nightmare.

“I have to go, B.” Cooper fingers are tapping out the same notes of the song over and over, and Blaine can’t quite bring himself to join in.  The pancakes are sitting heavy in his stomach and the coffee lingers stale on his tongue.

_We too can be good company, you and me_

“Where?”  Blaine asks quietly, and he thinks about the luggage by the door; what it means and what it doesn’t. 

“Los Angeles.”  Cooper misses a note and doesn’t bother to correct himself.

“I didn’t know we’re going on a trip.”  They’ve never been on a trip anywhere, but that doesn’t mean Blaine doesn’t think about all the places he wants to go.  Eventually.

“We’re not.  Blaine, I-” Cooper pauses and takes a deep breath.  The air in the room grows heavy.  “I’ve got a job.  It’s small, but it’s a start.  It’s a shot and I have to take it.  I wish it was in New York so I could stay closer, but – but it’s not.  I’m sorry.”

 _He’s leaving you_ , Blaine thinks with sudden, absolute understanding, and his hands fall heavily on the keys, sounding a clanging, discordant note.   _Just like mom._

“I don’t expect you to understand, I know you can’t -”

“I’m not a little kid,” Blaine interrupts and he gets up from the piano bench, but he doesn’t go anywhere.  There’s a door behind him, but nowhere to go.

_He’s leaving and there’s no one left._

“Blaine, please.”

Cooper’s hand is on his arm and he can’t shake it off even though he wants to.  He should have seen this coming.  How could he have not seen this coming?  Cooper’s been talking about LA – about becoming an actor, a real actor – for years.  And now he is; now it’s happening, and Blaine can’t stop it. Just like he couldn’t stop his mother from leaving either.

“I have to go, Blaine.  I have to.”  Cooper’s voice is strained, and his eyes are so blue and shining wetly as he stares up at Blaine from the piano bench.  The look in his eyes – pained and broken – makes Blaine’s skin crawl.  “I hate,  _hate_  to leave you, but I can’t stay here, we both know that.  But as soon as I’m settled, as soon as it’s possible, I want you to come live with me, ok?”

“But-” Blaine’s mind whirls.  Live with Cooper in LA?  Leave Connecticut for the first time ever and venture to the absolute other side of the country?  Everything he knows is here, but everything he loves is about to be gone.

“It’s your choice,” Cooper continues.  “It won’t be easy and honestly I don’t know how we’ll make it work – getting you into a school, affording rent and food.  And I’m pretty sure it’s technically kidnapping, but we’ll figure it out, if it’s something you want.”

What Blaine wants is for Cooper to stay.  But he’s not going to get what he wants; he never does.

 _Together that’s you, forever with me_  

Blaine doesn’t say anything – can’t – he just worries his bottom lip between his teeth and hopes that maybe, just maybe the anxious, heartbreaking look on Cooper’s face will clear and a smile will break out.  Blaine hopes that somehow Coop will laugh and explain how it’s all a joke – just a terrible joke and he didn’t mean it at all.

“I got you this.”  Cooper digs into his pocket and pulls out a little device that he presses into Blaine’s unresisting hand.

“What is it?”

“It’s a phone.  I have one too.  I put my number in it so you can call me whenever you need me.  I mean it, B.  Call me.”  Cooper’s hand tightens on Blaine’s forearm; the pressure almost hurts, but Blaine thinks he might need to hold on to the feeling for a while.  “Whenever.  I’m always going to answer it, ok?  Even if it’s just to say hi or complain about school or vent or to tell me about someone you like.  Anything.  Call me.  Promise you’ll call me.”  Blaine has never heard Cooper beg before.

Blaine swallows thickly and grips the phone in his hand.  “I promise.”  He’ll do whatever his big brother asks.

There are footsteps from upstairs, just barely audible but so obvious nevertheless, and Cooper glances towards the ceiling.  It’s their father waking up. 

“Ok then,” Cooper stands up then, and Blaine finds himself wrapped up tight in Cooper’s strong, familiar arms before he can draw another breath.  He’s gotten a little taller in the last year, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be as tall as Coop.  His cheek still rests against the curve of Cooper’s chest and he can hear the too-fast, too-hard pounding of Cooper’s heart.

Blaine doesn’t understand how this can possibly be the last hug he’s going to get from Coop.  He doesn’t understand anything right now.  Hurt and fear and confusion spike hotly through him.  His knees are weak and his stomach feels like it’s being folded inside out.  His heart is too big and too small all at once.

“I am going to miss you so goddamn much, squirt.”  Cooper presses a kiss to the top of Blaine’s head and Blaine squeezes his eyes shut, as though he can keep the tears from spilling down his cheeks.  He can’t.  And he can’t stop the sob that gets muffled against Cooper’s shirt.

_Don’t leave me._

“I love you, ok?  No matter what.  You have to believe that.”  Cooper grips him so tightly that Blaine doesn’t think he could draw breath.  Not that there is any air left to breathe.  And then the arms around him – the arms that have always held him up – are gone, and so is Cooper.

Blaine stands in the middle of the music room with his eyes closed against  _everything_ in his heart and his soul and tears stream endlessly down his face.  He listens to Cooper’s fading footsteps in the hallway and the opening of the front door.

The door closes and that’s the end.


End file.
